


To Tell The World You're Mine

by insertnerdyjokehere



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Collars, Dom Crowley (Good Omens), Exhibitionism, Light BDSM, M/M, Porn With Plot, Possessive Behavior, Public Claiming, Spanking, Sub Aziraphale (Good Omens), Wing Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 11:44:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21427693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insertnerdyjokehere/pseuds/insertnerdyjokehere
Summary: In order to hide the true nature of their relationship and escape suspicion after the holy water incident Crowley must take Aziraphale to Hell to stake his claim over the angel.--Crowley carefully looked the collar over. “The inscription should cut you off from any heavenly power, no miracles, nothing. Once it’s on, only I can take it off. It will show everyone that-” Crowley shifted on his feet, “That you belong to me.”This seemed to bring Aziraphale out of his stupor and he finally looked away from the collar, switching his gaze to Crowley’s yellow eyes. “I already do.” His voice was gentle but had the hard edge of confidence.Crowley drew in a breath. The words traveled down his spine like electricity, lighting him up from the inside. The nerves were fading into excitement. There was still so much riding on this. A brutish display for Hell. But at the end of the day, they did belong to each other. They had said so in many different ways, this was just another display.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 474





	To Tell The World You're Mine

**Author's Note:**

> This fic... got out of hand. But sometimes you really just gotta write the self indulgent smut you've been dreaming about. 
> 
> As always thanks to my beloved beta seterasilence.

No matter how much chaos there was in London, there was always a little room for more. Although no longer officially contracted by Hell, Crowley liked to spend the occasional afternoon sowing the seeds of dissent. A freelancer of sorts. 

He was in the middle switching push and pull signs on every door in Piccadilly Circus when he heard a voice address him. 

“Crowley, is that you?” 

He turned and saw a well dressed demon walking toward him. Not just well dressed but well everything-ed. There was an unnatural charisma about the figure. Heads were helpless to turn as he walked, drawn to him like a magnet. To anyone with a sexual drive, he was their type. His appearance shifted to humans so that he looked like whatever they wanted most, any spectrum of weight, or height, or skin tone. Whatever the form, it was attractive. It didn’t work on demons though, so Crowley just saw a pompous asshole with a big enough ego to sink a cruise liner. 

“Valac!” Crowley drew out the name like he was greeting an old friend. He wasn’t. “It’s been too long.” It hadn’t. It could never be long enough in Crowley’s mind. Valac was an incubus and a pretty prominent one at that. Rumor had it he was responsible for every prominent sex scandal in the last 300 years. Lazy work, if you asked Crowley. Temping humans to lust was hardly even temping. Just show some skin and that was that. 

The demon came up and kissed Crowley on the cheek. His nostrils flared as a strong whiff of pheromones hit him. Musk and dark desires, sin and sweat. It had no effect on Crowley, but nearby a man nearly walked straight into traffic. Crowley internally rolled his eyes but made sure he had a miraculous escape.

“Haven’t seen you in a couple decades. Heard about the whole holy water business. How’d you do it? One demon to another.” Valac’s tone was casual, but there was something in his eyes that revealed this wasn’t a chance meeting. It never was with agents of Hell. 

“Trade secret, I’m afraid.” 

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.” He shrugged and a woman passing walked straight into a lamp post. Valac caught her eye and winked. She stumbled off in a daze. “It has nothing to do with that angel, does it? Some trick the two of you pulled off. Heard he walked through _ Hellfire… _”

_Shit_. Crowley thought. _ Play dumb. _ “What angel?” He mentally kicked himself. _ Not that dumb._

Valac threw his head back and laughed. Several people stopped to stare, the sound like an infection that made all blood run south. “You always had such a great sense of humor.” Every word he said sounded like a solicitation, like there was only one thing he was after and it rested in between Crowley’s legs. It made Crowley uneasy.

Crowley choked out a laugh, too nervous to be anywhere near seductive. “Oh, of course, _ of course _ . _ That _ angel. Ha. I’m afraid he’s too simple to pull something like that off. Bit dense really. Saw him try to plug an electric tea kettle into a stove once.” Not technically a lie. 

“Mmm, I understand completely. Angels are a bit _ thick. _ So you spend time with him then?” It was said casually but there was a hint of threat in his voice, as if he knew he was one turn away from solving the maze and finding the cheese. 

Crowley made a bunch of aborted noises before composing himself, voice becoming sibilant, “Well, it’sss not like we’re friends. It’s all been a long con you see. Ssseduce an angel for the glory of our dark lord.” 

“Seduction hasn’t been your usual foray but I’m glad you’re… making an effort.” 

_ Honestly, how many innuendos can you fit into a single conversation. Do you spend your free time thinking up new come ons? _Instead of saying any of this, Crowley just nodded and hummed some note of agreement. 

“Come down to my club when you get a chance, it’s the sort of scene where you can really show him off. _ Prove _ how you’ve corrupted an angel.”

A chill ran down Crowley’s spine. He knew about Valac’s club. Entrances all over the world in dark corners in the dirty parts of town, but the same den of sin. A halfway house between earth and hell that humans visited, not knowing how close they were to the inferno, only seeking pleasure for themselves. A place where sin was relished in, made physical, felt and heard and tasted. Where a demon didn’t have to lift a finger to corrupt a soul, just a skirt or two. It wasn’t a place for the faint of heart. It was a place for sex. A visit required a certain level of… participation. 

It was a challenge. If Crowley refused, Valac could call his bluff, figure out their secret and tell all of Hell. Expose them. Put them in danger. 

“I’ll work it into my schedule,” Crowley said. 

“I’m sure that won’t be a problem. Now that you’re a free agent. How about tonight?” Valac was already walking away, not giving Crowley the chance to refuse. 

He waved half-heartedly as Valac merged back into the crowd on the street.

“Shit_ ...shit shit shit shit!” _ Crowley stood in place for a while looking down the streets, at a loss for what to do next. “I need a drink _ , _ ” he muttered to himself. Looking up he saw that he was conveniently in front of a bar. He sighed, pushed at the door but smacked his face directly into the glass despite the fact that the sign had _ said _ ‘push.’

* * *

A few bottles later, Crowley stumbled into the back room of bookshop to find a worried Aziraphale. He only found a _ worried _ Aziraphale for a moment because the angel quickly shifted into an _ irritated _Aziraphale. 

“Where have you been? I was worried about you! Thought something might have happen-” 

Crowley took Aziraphale’s face in his hands and pulled him into a ruthless kiss. Licked into his mouth, desperate to wash away the taste of cheap whiskey. 

Aziraphale kissed back, surprised at the display but not unwelcoming of it. He brought his hands up to cover Crowley’s to gently pull him away. Fear. There was fear in his eyes. But more than that, there was confusion. 

“Has something happened? Cro-” He was cut off again by Crowley’s lips. The kiss continued for a moment, Aziraphale in order to comfort and Crowley in order to avoid. Eventually, the angel pulled away, becoming a bit annoyed. 

“My dear, I think it would be best if you sobered up.” 

Crowley shoved his face into the warm crook of Aziraphale’s neck, hands slipping from the angel’s face to clutch at the lapels of his waistcoat. “No,” he said, like a child in need of a nap. “Don’t wanna think about it. Just want you. Aziraphale please. I-”

There was a snap and the alcohol rudely left his system. He staggered and looked up at Aziraphale, blinking in his sobriety. 

“Feeling better?” Aziraphale placed his hand over Crowley’s, coaxing his grip to loosen with the caress of a thumb over his knuckles. 

Crowley nodded, still a little disoriented. 

“Good. Now, do you care to tell me what has put you in such a state? I haven’t seen you like this since they canceled _ Golden Girls _.”

After taking a steady breath, he answered, “I- I ran into a demon. Valac. An incubus.”

“Are you hurt? Did they do anything?” There was a sudden fury in Aziraphale’s eyes and his voice dropped to the low rumble of an earthquake. For all his sweaters and cocoa he was still a force of heaven, capable of miracles as well as smiting. 

“No. No. I’m fine.” Crowley let go of the waistcoat in order to gather Aziraphale’s hands and bring them down in between them. “He basically threatened me. Implied he knew something about our switch. Could be a bluff but if he’s serious, we could be in danger. He could take _ everything _from us.”

Aziraphale gave a curt nod, addressing the situation like a triage nurse. Figuring out the best course of action, prioritizing and delegating. “This was bound to happen. An eventuality.” He miracled a suitcase into his hand and began pulling random items into it. A set of extra sunglasses. A book of dirty poetry. His favorite mug. “We’ll have to leave London. See how far we get. You get the car ready and I’ll pack up the essentials.” He looked around the shop, assessing what was important enough to take with them. The tea set? The plants? How many books could they fit in the trunk of the car? 

A hand on his shoulder stopped him as he walked purposefully to the book stacks. He turned to see Crowley decidedly _ not _ getting the car ready.

“It’s only a threat now. He gave me a sort of ultimatum. If we just… play along then we might be able to get away with it.”

“Play along?”

“I might have lied to him about the… nature of our relationship. I implied that I had… erm, corrupted you. That’s why we’re together. Because you’re _ mine.” _

“Oh. Well. I fail to see what the problem is. Snagging an angel must be pretty impressive in the eyes of Hell.” He set the suitcase down and started unpacking the few items he had haphazard thrown in. 

Crowley made a series of incredulous noises, making wide gestures that was only a few degrees from all out flailing. 

“Crowley, I don’t see why you’re so worried. _ Technically _ you _ did _ seduce an angel. We’ve been having... _relations_ for quite some time.” Aziraphale straightened up and gave him a shameless once over. “In case you’ve forgotten.” 

That gave Crowley pause. His brain slowed down enough to think his next set of words through. He took off his glasses and set them down, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “No, I haven’t forgotten.” His voice softened, “But Aziraphale, I _ Love you. _ Demons don’t Love. I’ll end up in more trouble if they find out exactly what we are to each other.” 

Aziraphale closed the distance between them and kissed him sweetly. A simple press of lips that they had done a hundred times before. Telling him things that couldn’t be said with words. Or if they could, it would take more words than what was held in all of Aziraphale’s books combined. Crowley understood each and everyone of them, but he was still hesitant. 

“He wants _ proof. _ I need to bring you to Hell tonight, show them that you’re just my _ possession. _” The demon seemed apprehensive and frozen in place. He tore his gaze away from Aziraphale. After a moment he continued, his voice suddenly timid and afraid, “They… they might make me hurt you.” His voice cracked.

“Crowley, you could never hurt me. You could break my bones, discorporate me, but you could never _ hurt _ me,” Aziraphale paused and a smile worked its way onto his lips. “Besides, it’s not like it would be the first time I’ve been a prisoner who-”

“The Bastille doesn’t count and _ you know it!” _ Crowley tried to pull away but Aziraphale held him still.

“It _ does _ because I know you’ll always come for me. Keep me safe.” He kissed his forehead. More words told through the action. 

Crowley hid his emotions behind a glare. Refused to feel the weight of those words. It wasn’t the time. They had bigger issues at hand. 

“So come on now. How are we going to do this? How do you want me?” He opened his arms in offering, not a hint of hesitation or dime of doubtfulness. 

“You’ll need to be subservient. Uh- restrained maybe?”

Without a second thought, Aziraphale snapped and from behind his back he pulled out a collar. It was a simple gold band over an inch wide. The metal looked smooth and it shone in the warm light of the bookshop. Crowley didn’t need to check to know it would be a perfect fit. His mouth went dry and his wits completely abandoned him. There was a ring attached to it that dangled as Aziraphale held it out. 

“Don’t look so surprised, I live in Soho. I’m not some _ prude.” _

“I know you’re not a prude!” Crowley growled as he came back to the moment. There was plenty of evidence that the angel wasn’t some blushing virgin. Plenty of fading bruises on hips and half hidden hickies. Aches and pains that weren’t miracled away because he reveled in them, savored them the same way he savored sweets. 

Crowley took the collar from Aziraphale’s hands and looked it over, avoiding eye contact. “It’s not enough.”

“What do you-”

There was a spark as Crowley licked his index finger. It lit up like a welding gun. Too bright for a human to look at. Working his way around the band, he began engraving it with complicated demonic sigils. Runes that had been lost to time. Words of possession. Ownership. 

He ended with a familiar symbol, a twisting snake that connected it to the beginning of the script, like it was eating its own tail. The words burned brightly as they became unbroken, flowing one into the other, and then the light faded.

The entire room seemed to pause and the air cracked like there was distant thunder. Aziraphale had grown very still.

Crowley carefully looked it over, taking his time and checking for any mistakes, knowing full well that there were none. Couldn’t be any. There was no room for error. Aziraphale’s eyes stayed fixed on the collar the entire time, as if hypnotized. 

“The inscription should cut you off from any heavenly power, no miracles, nothing. Once it’s on, only I can take it off. It will show everyone that-” Crowley shifted on his feet, “That you belong to me.” 

This seemed to bring Aziraphale out of his stupor and he finally looked away from the collar, switching his gaze to Crowley’s yellow eyes. “I already do.” His voice was gentle but had the hard edge of confidence.

Crowley drew in a breath. The words traveled down his spine like electricity, lighting him up from the inside. The nerves were fading into excitement. There was still so much riding on this. A brutish display for Hell. But at the end of the day, they _ did _belong to each other. They had said so in many different ways, this was just another display.

“Bring out your wings.”

“Why?”

“Because the idea is that I’m showing you, an _ angel _, off, and you won’t be able to manifest them once this goes on.” 

Aziraphale seemed nervous but complied and with a roll of his shoulders, white feathers appeared out of the ether. They stretched out as far as they could, taking advantage of their fleeting freedom. He closed his eyes in satisfaction at the feeling, not seeing Crowley raise his hands pointedly. Missing the mischievous smile on his face. 

There was a snap and Aziraphale was suddenly shirtless, and in a pair of tan breeches he hadn't been wearing moments ago. Leather didn’t seem to fit the whole “angel” aesthetic. These were simple, understated, but tight enough to be a touch uncomfortable.

Aziraphale gasped at the abrupt change in temperature, skin exposed to the air. “You could have warned me!” His arms crossed, trying to cover this chest. “Not to mention given me _ underwear,” _he muttered under his breath.

“You sobered me up without warning.” Crowley shrugged, opening the collar. “Let’s call it even.”

Ignoring Aziraphale’s huff, Crowley stepped into his personal space. With the hand not holding the collar, Crowley reached up to lay his palm over Aziraphale’s neck, thumb resting at the hollow of his throat. Aziraphale tipped his head back without thought, baring himself, eyes locked on Crowley. Under Crowley’s thumb, Aziraphale’s heartbeat was slow and steady, but there was an effort there. An angelic exertion to keep everything under control. He bent his head and placed a kiss at the angel’s pulse point and Aziraphale reflexively swallowed. Crowley felt every muscle move, the bob in his throat push against his lips.

Crowley kissed the same spot again and again, slowly going from chaste to something decidedly not so. Heat building like coal being fanned. Catching fire to whatever it touched. Aziraphale groaned and Crowley could feel the vibrations through his teeth as he bit and sucked at skin. His lips didn’t travel, lavishing attention only on this one spot. The flames grew and lit Aziraphale up like dry leaves on the forest floor and he canted his hips forward, desperate for friction as his arousal began to build. Crowley took pity on him and responded in kind, pushing a leg between the angel’s and yanking on the band of his pants to pull them flush together. Aziraphale’s moans became more desperate as his hips moved of their own volition. 

They had been with each other many times over the last year so and Crowley knew what it sounded like when Aziraphale came. Knew the way his breath started to hitch, gasps coming quicker and louder. Could tell how close he was from by the pitch of his whines. It was a sound that he treasured, kept branded into his mind for when they spent time apart. He wanted to hear it now. Ached for it. Desired it more than his own release. To feel Aziraphale tense under him and cry out his name, hear it ring through the bookshop. It wouldn’t take much. Just to reach down and take him in his hand and finish him off. He sunk his teeth into Aziraphale’s neck, not quite hard enough to break skin, as his hips gave a particularly hard thrust. Aziraphale let out a high pitched whine, jumping nearly an octave from moments before. Wouldn’t take much at all. 

But now was not the time. Valac was expecting them and it wouldn’t do to show up with the angel sated and satisfied. Needed him to be left wanting. 

He pulled back much to the protest of Aziraphale who made a sound of loss as their bodies were separated. Crowley surveyed his work while Aziraphale slowly evened out his breathing. He was still red faced and obviously hard. There was a red mark contrasting sharply against the rest of Aziraphale’s pale neck. Satisfied with what he saw, he bowed his head to place a final soft kiss against the bite mark. Such a change of pace that Aziraphale gasped. While his lips lingered, Crowley brought the collar up and used his other hand to guide it into place. His lips were the only thing stopping it from closing. Azirphale was still making a good show of keeping his breathing under control, but it was still fast. 

As soon as Crowley pulled away he pushed the collar shut, closing the metal where his lips had been, obscuring his mark completely. Keeping it hidden, something that was just theirs. The seam melted together, the script becoming unbroken once again as the words glowed fire red before fading.

There was a brief moment of calm where Aziraphale had the time to think _ Well that wasn’t so bad _. But then a void surrounded him and there was a pull in his stomach as he felt all of his power leave him in one fell swoop. There was nothing. It was like losing a sense, but instead of sight or touch, he lost his sense of self. The entire world tilted on its axis. Were his wings always this heavy? He opened his mouth to cry out but didn’t have the air to make a sound and collapsed to his knees, Crowley going with him. He started to pitch over, but then Crowley was there, his hands gripping his shoulders. He was saying words, but Aziraphale couldn’t understand them. Could only tell that he frantic, yelling at him. Repeating the same word over and over. Aziraphale focused on his lips and slowly the ringing faded and his voice came through. 

“_Breathe! Breathe, angel! _ You need to breathe _ now.” _

Aziraphale gasped, sucking in a breath that filled his lungs with ice. Not ice, it was fire, and it was burning from the inside out. His body trembled with the sensation. Everything became too much. 

Crowley’s voice dropped in pitch, the low purr of a car engine, “_ Listen to me _. That’s all you have to do. Just do what I say. Take another deep breath for me. Out and in. Slower.” Aziraphale complied and the fire in his chest died down. He mimicked Crowley’s own breathing, getting lost in the steady rhythm. “That’s it, love. Good. You’re doing so well.”

They stayed there on the ground for a few minutes, Crowley murmuring comforting words and stroking a hand up and down the angel’s arm. Aziraphale’s breathing became more natural to him. Crowley pushed their foreheads together and they locked gazes. 

“You only have to listen to me. You don’t need to think about your actions or what to say. Only do what I tell you to do. Only answer questions I ask. Nod if you understand.”

Aziraphale took another deep breath, the air filled his lungs and steadied him. He nodded. He got used to the feeling of being cut off from his powers. He settled his head on Crowley’s shoulder. They stole a quiet moment before Crowley spoke up, breaking the spell that had settled over them. Reminding them what this was all about. 

“We need a safeword. In case it all goes wrong.”

Aziraphale picked his head up and looked at the demon. “How about… crêpes?” 

Crowley rolled his eyes at Aziraphale’s cheeky tone. “This is serious, angel. If something goes wrong I need you to tell me.”

“Seems like that will break the charade, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t _ care _ if it does!” Crowley suddenly sounded furious, “Hell can do what they like with me afterwards but if it gets to be too much you say that word and I will get us out of there. _ Promise me. _”

The passion and protectiveness in Crowley’s voice filled the emptiness where Aziraphale’s powers used to be. Made him feel whole again. “I promise.”

Crowley relaxed and placed a kiss on Aziraphale’s brow. “Now,” he said in a lighter tone as he pulled back, “are you sure you want your word to be _ crêpes_?”

Aziraphale pursed his lips for a moment in thought. “Seems as good a word as any.” 

Crowley accepted the answer and began to stand, pulling Aziraphale up with him. 

Aziraphale stood stiffly, still adjusting to the weight of the collar around his neck. He thought it would be cold and uncomfortable but that wasn’t the case. It felt warmer than his already heated skin and fit around his neck perfectly, after all, he’d worn more uncomfortable bowties for decades at a time. There was almost something soothing about the collar. It was his to wear, no one else’s. The inscription on it burned into his mind. He began to reach up to touch the band but then thought better of it. If they were to fall into these roles it'd be best to stay still and wait for instructions.

Crowley made slow circles around him, assessing and silent. Aziraphale tried his hardest to stay still but couldn't help a shiver that ran through his body, wings flexing against his back. 

Crowley stopped and made a disappointing sound that brought a flush to Aziraphale's cheeks. He didn't want to let this affect him, but there was already a fog setting in his head, making it difficult to think. He shivered again and Crowley tutted at him. "That won't do, _ dear _. If we're going to make this work, you're going to need to behave." He waited a beat. Aziraphale did not move. Crowley continued walking, a smirk working its way across his face, "That's better."

He continued to orbit around his personal sun and when he made his way back into Aziraphale's eyesight there was a long length of black rope in his hands. The angel drew in a sharp breath, but kept himself from moving.

At the sound, Crowley seemed to hesitate, falling out of his role for a moment. The ropes were a heavy burden in his hands. Aziraphale slowly exhaled and gave Crowley a short nod, ready for whatever the demon had for him. The words unspoken between them: _ I trust you. I trust you. I trust you. _

Crowley stepped behind Aziraphale until his chest was pressed against his back. He put a hand on his stomach to brace him as he rolled his hips against his ass, figuring he might as well take advantage of the situation. Aziraphale huffed and sighed. Trying to be patient.

After a few lazy grinds, Crowley took a small step back and Aziraphale shivered at the loss of contact. Crowley reached down and grabbed Aziraphale’s hands hanging at his side. He brought them together behind his back until his wrists were touching. “Stay still for me, won’t you angel?” Aziraphale straightened his posture and held himself together.

Crowley drew his hand between Aziraphale’s shoulders, caressing the skin that lay between his wings. Once his hands reached the angel’s wrists he gave them a comforting squeeze before wrapping the rope around them and securing it with a knot. He clinched closed with a sharp tug. 

Aziraphale drew in a sharp breath but managed to not move.

“Do you remember your word?”

“Cre-”

“Don’t say it,” he commanded. “You _ only _ say it when you need to use it.” He ran a soothing hand back up Aziraphale’s back. “Tell me if you remember what it is.”

“Yes.”

“Good. Do you need to use it?”

“Honestly Crowley, it’s a simple eno-” Crowley tugged the ropes sharply and Aziraphale grunted at the strain on his shoulders. Not painful but not comfortable either. 

“_Do you need to ussse it? _” He hissed in his ear. 

“No.” 

“Good. You need to listen to me. Don’t talk back. If I ask you a yes or no question, I expect a yes or no answer. Do you understand?”  
Aziraphale paused, obviously holding his tongue. “Yes,” he eventually responded. Crowley placed a kiss between his shoulders for his troubles. 

Returning his attention to the rope, Crowley brought the two strands up along his angel’s spine to just above where his wings started, and made a band around his chest and back, threading the rope under itself to create a simple Y shape. Making sure the lines didn’t cross, he wrapped it around his shoulders one more time and then pulled. Tightening everything together. Unyielding. 

It made Aziraphale’s skin sing. It felt secure. Safe. He closed his eyes to better focus on the sensation as Crowley continued to braid the rope around him, locking his arms to his sides. His fingers trailed the line of rope, slowly tracing every inch he had just laid. The heat of his palm almost enough to make Aziraphale squirm. His bound hands squeezed his forearms. He would be good. He wouldn’t move.

Noticing the tension Crowley kissed the knot at his back, careful not to let his lips touch skin, just give enough pressure to push the knot into skin. “Relax for me, Aziraphale,” He whispered, hot breath teasing Aziraphale which did pointedly not help him relax. He took a deep breath and forced his hands to loosen. 

“Thank you,” Crowley murmured as he paused for a moment to think of where to place his next line of rope. Functionality wasn’t the goal here. Display was. 

He made another band, this time lower down his back. Securing it with knots that were as decorative as they were necessary, never running out of rope, pulling more and more out of the air as he worked, snaking its way around his angel. There could have been miles of rope if Crowley believed there was. 

Crowley tested the knots as he went, making sure everything laid correctly and nothing snagged where it wasn’t supposed to. He worked swiftly and confidently, without hesitation or doubt. It made Aziraphale burn with questions about where Crowley learned how to do this, how many times he had done it before, and with who. A flash of jealousy flared in his stomach. He ducked his head and bit his lip. Keeping quiet like he was told as Crowley’s hands slid rope against his skin. It was meditative. As the ropes tightened he drifted further and further from those burning questions. As if instead of burning he was sinking into a dark pool, cool water embracing him and making him weightless. Those questions didn’t matter. What mattered was he did as he was told. Be still. Be silent. 

Crowley clinched the ropes again before letting the rope hang at Aziraphale’s wrists. He circled Aziraphale, fingers ghosting over skin and checking rope tension. 

“Are you alright, angel?”

It took a moment for Aziraphale to answer, mouth having momentarily forgotten how to work as if a weight in his chest pulled his jaw shut. Crowley waited patiently and wrapped a hand around the bands at his chest and gave it a sharp tug. Aziraphale went willingly into his arms with a pleased hum. 

“Yes dear,” he finally answered with obvious effort. 

Crowley chuckled. “Just a little more to go.” He pointedly ran a hand down the edge of Aziraphale’s wing, causing the angel to shudder. 

Crowley walked back, fingers never leaving the wing. This time using only one strand of rope, he brought it up and over the bend of Aziraphale’s wings before returning to the small of his back. Once he had done the same on the other wing, he crossed the ropes under the knot of the lower band of the harness so it laid flat against his skin. He pulled the ropes taut and Aziraphale groaned as his wings were pulled shut. He was hyper-aware of every rope around his body, the pull of them against his feathers but something about it seemed distant. It was as if his spine had become molten gold and was dripping inside of him. He let himself sink deeper into the sensation.

Moving the ropes to the outside of the wing, Crowley made another cross. Over. Under. Through. Interweaving the strands again and again. He tightened as he went and the wings drew closer and closer like a corset, until they folded neatly against Aziraphale’s back. 

They were both silent while Crowley worked. The only sounds in the room was their breathing and the soft sigh of rope against skin and feather. The black rope a stark contrast against the white of wings. Unyielding but looking as delicate as lace. 

He threaded both ends through the loop attached to the back of the collar. With a twist he weaved the ends under and over, making a decorative cord until the rope finally ended. With one final knot he was done. 

He took a reluctant step back and looked over his work. 

“How does it feel? You can move around if you’d like.”

Desperate to move after being still for so long, Aziraphale rolled his shoulders but the movement pulled all the ropes taut. All the tension pulled on the collar and tugged his head back, making him bare his neck to Crowley as a groan escaped his lips. 

Crowley didn’t try to hide his smirk and Aziraphale gasped at the new sensation. He held still to ease the strain on his throat. 

“That’s… different.”“Are you alright? Do you remember your word?”

“Yes, dear. I’m fine. Just... adjusting.” He wiggled his shoulders, this time anticipating the pull of ropes. He seemed to settle into it and stood still. “Alright, I’m gonna miracle us there. Figure it’s easier than walking the streets like… that.” 

Aziraphale scoffed, the wings might draw attention, but weirder things have been seen in the streets of Soho. He took a breath and remembered the full weight of the situation. Hell. Valac. Proving that he _ belonged _ to Crowley. No matter what that proof required. 

The levity left his eyes and was replaced with worry. Crowley saw the question burning on his lips and nodded, giving him permission to speak.

“Are you sure this will work?”The demon circled his angel, making one last assessment, eyes trailing over every line of rope and knot over arms, back, chest. His gaze lingered on the collar for a moment before trailing back up to eyes. Something heavy settled between them, bound them tighter than the ropes wrapped around Aziraphale. “What kind of answer do you want?”

“A comforting lie."

Crowley pulled a pair of sunglasses out from his breast pocket and slid them on, hiding any nerves shining in his yellow eyes. “Everything is gonna be fine. This is gonna work.” 

With a nod from Aziraphale, Crowley raised his hand and snapped. 

* * *

Valac’s club was easily accessible to humans of a certain mindset. People who used sex as an escape, who felt no guilt in turning to pleasures of the flesh to ease their worried minds. People walked around in various states of undress and arousal. Seeking things they couldn’t find anywhere else.

Crowley and Aziraphale appeared in a far corner of the main room and no one seemed to notice that they hadn’t been there moments ago. They blended in, Aziraphale’s wings imperceptible to humans, appearing as simply a part of an elaborate costume. Nothing ethereal or out of the ordinary. But the demons did take notice. 

Aziraphale could feel it as they slid their eyes over him and the lines of rope that hugged him. Safe to say that he was the first angelic patron. 

A chill ran down his spine making Aziraphale shiver, not from the cold, it was quite warm after all, but from the attention of strangers. He was a being of privacy, of creature comforts and his cloistered bookshelves.

A hand fell on his shoulder and he tensed. Worried that devouring him with his eyes was not enough for the demons around him. But then a warmth flowed through him and ignited his bones with a familiar fire that he would cling onto until the end of the world. In fact he already had. 

He was with Crowley. He was safe. He trusted Crowley would never let anything happen to him.

There were couches and booths filled with various beings, some human, some demon, all of them dripping with untamed desires. The same way angels could feel love, demons could feel lust and this place reeked of it. Crowley wrinkled his nose as he got a particularly strong whiff of it. He turned his head to find the source and saw Valac striding toward them. His hand tightened on Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“There you are!” His voice rose above the din of whispers and moans. “I was beginning to wonder if you were going to come. But I see you took your time getting your little pet ready.” His eyes trailed over Aziraphale before snapping back up to Crowley. “Come, let me get you a drink.”

As if by command a waitress walked passed them with a tray of drinks. Seamlessly, Valac picked up two glasses full of an amber liquid and handed one to Crowley. 

Whiskey. Top shelf by the smell of it. Crowley wasn’t going to complain. But with a breath he lowered the percentage. Now wasn’t the time to get sloppy. It still burned down his throat when he took a sip, but Crowley needed the distraction. 

“This is a nice place you’ve got here,” he drawled after the burn of the drink faded to an ember. It wasn’t a lie. It was sleek and clean and everything that the rest of Hell wasn’t. If it weren’t for the obvious demons wandering about it could easily pass as any other similar establishment on Earth.

“Oh, thank you.” Valac put a hand on his chest as if it was the first time he had received such a compliment. “It really is my pride and joy.” Without a word he turned and led them deeper into the club. Aziraphale kept his eyes down. Feeling like it was what was expected of him but also afraid of becoming overwhelmed by what surrounded them. He focused on keeping his breaths even, feeling the weight of Crowley’s hand on his shoulder. An anchor in a cruel storm. 

They reached a booth tucked away in the back, secluded enough that they wouldn’t have an audience but exposed enough to guarantee a voyeur or two. 

Valac sat down and leaned back across the cushions, gesturing for Crowley to do the same. 

Crowley complied and threw both arms over the top of the couch seats in order to seem comfortable but his fists were clenched in warning, a silent threat, a dare for Valac to make the next move. 

Aziraphale stood awkwardly. Unsure of what he was supposed to do. He stole a glance around, hoping for some clue as to what was expected of him, but there was too much going on for him to focus on one thing. His heart rate picked up speed. If he made the wrong move Valac would figure them out. Realize this was all some charade. Discover that the nature of their relationship wasn’t some lustful power play on Crowley’s part. An angel and a demon fraternizing against Heaven and Hell. 

Crowley snapped and a black cushion appeared at his feet. He spread his legs. “Kneel for me, angel.” Aziraphale didn’t hesitate to drop to his knees, a little wobbly without the use of his arms, and kneeled in front of Crowley. He looked up at his demon expectantly, waiting for the next command, liking the thrill of being told what to do. 

He watched as Crowley took a moment to take another drink. “Stay still and stay silent. Just like that. No moving. You don’t want to disappoint me in front of my dear friend here would you?”

“No.” 

Valac’s eyes roamed over Aziraphale, assessing every curve and inch of pale skin. “He seems well trained.” He looked up to Crowley, smirking as he brought his drink to his lips, standing down for the moment, "We've been worried about you Crowley. Some of us, not me of course," he took a sip and looked back to Aziraphale as he swallowed, "but _ others _ were worried that you and this angel were involved in some way. That he was turning you away from the dark corners of Hell and into the light of Heaven, but obviously it's the other way around. You are the original tempter after all. Glad to see you haven't lost your touch."

On his knees, Aziraphale did his best to stay still despite the ache starting to work it's way through his body, his cheeks flushed as he felt himself on display for others to consume, to see him as if he were a prize, and in a way he was. Here in this dark room, underground and far from the light of day, he belonged to Crowley. His body and mind were his to control. It was a heady feeling and it made Aziraphale dizzy. He had no control, he had given it all to Crowley, and yet there was a peace in that. He trusted Crowley, loved him, would follow him to the end of the world and back and as a matter of fact did. Crowley knew him and would protect him, it was the truth that Aziraphale built his world around.

He felt Crowley card his fingers through his hair and lost himself in the touch. Leaned into it, being as subtle as he could. Not caring how needy he seemed, simply desperate for something familiar, a moment of calm in this chaotic scene. Words continues to be said but he couldn't keep up. Voices floated above his head as if they were miles away. His breathing slowed, as a sense of calm washed over him. He couldn't focus, but didn’t want to. His body hummed with a low drone that he sank into, let himself be pulled under, knowing that wherever this path led to he was safe.

* * *

Meanwhile in the clouds, Crowley was trying to keep his head above water, making small talk with Valac who sat in the chair across from him like it was a throne.

"How did you do it? How did you manage to tempt an angel?" Valac asked casually, like it was a simple conversation starter to have over the dinner table. 

Crowley took a sip of his drink to bide his time, letting the burn heat his words. "Oh it was easy, honestly I had a harder time tempting a whore at the street corner. It was like he was asking for it." At the words, Crowley gripped Aziraphale's hair until he reflexively drew his head back and softly cried out. 

Crowley tutted at the display, disappointed at the outburst despite the sound lighting up something dark in his chest. Like lightning in a midnight storm. Illuminating what had been obscured. There was a thread of possession weaving its way into his heart, making him want to tell every demon in the room that this angel was his and he would turn to violence if he needed to prove it.

Valac laughed indulgently. "Ah, still some lessons to learn, I see. I've always been a fan of teaching through punishment." He didn't break eye contact with Crowley, a challenge, a demand. One that Crowley couldn't refuse.

Even through his pants, Crowley could feel the hot puffs of Aziraphale’s breath against his thigh. They were stuttered and short, an edge of panic creeping in. The runes on the collar blocked Aziraphale’s connection to his powers; he needed to breathe. He didn’t have a choice. Oxygen was keeping his system going, not divine energy, and if he didn’t get enough, he risked falling unconscious and Crowley didn’t want to think about what would happen then. 

With one hand still casually thrown over the side the booth, Crowley threw back the rest of his drink and set down the empty glass. Making it seem like an afterthought, he placed his now free hand on the back of Aziraphale’s neck, feeling the cool metal of the gold collar against his palm. His thumb stroked juncture of his neck and shoulder, trying to secretly soothe the angel at his knees. 

Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered shut as he bared his neck for more of the touch but the motion pulled the ropes taut and tugged his head back and he cried out. The sound was a blend of pain and pleasure with an overtone of shame. Crowley saw it in the way he tried to hide his face in Crowley’s thigh. Trying to hide from any eyes. His wings twitched again, pulling his head back again as he arced into the sensation, no longer able to control his movements, caught in a loop of push and pull, the more he moved, the more he struggled. He was wriggling, gasping for breath, unable to stop the moans from escaping his lips. Crowley watched, hating the thrill that he felt as his angel writhed at his feet. He dug his thumb into Aziraphale’s shoulder, trying to be a grounding presence. It seemed to work and Aziraphale slowly came back down. Crowley pulled until Aziraphale’s head was resting against his thigh. Breath coming in short gasps. 

The sound of his rasping breath echoed in the pit of Crowley’s stomach. Further churning the feeling that had been building inside of him. Crowley, trying to appear unaffected, combed his fingers through Aziraphale’s hair as the angel slowly settled by degrees, his breath evening out despite the fine tremor making its way through his body. Crowley felt it. Cherished it. Wanted more of it. 

Across the booth he heard a chuckle, and it pulled him out of the moment. He looked up and locked eyes with Valac, watching like a hawk. Like a vulture, circling his prey. His voice drifted to him, like smoke, “It’s like he’s asking to be punished. You can’t keep letting him get away with that. What do you say? Give us a show.” He leered. Smile like ice. “Or do you need a hand?” He lifted a hand and reached towards Aziraphale’s wings, long nails already beginning to curl in anticipation. 

Springing like the coiled snake he was, Crowley grabbed Valac’s hair and slammed his face against the table. Aziraphale’s head was dislodged as Crowley leaned forward to whisper in Valac’s ear. “Do you know my favorite deadly sin?” Crowley’s grip tightened until the demon gritted his teeth. “People make plenty of assumptions about mine, they think it’s pride cause of how I dress, or wrath because I enjoy making humans angry. And I can respect some good old fashioned envy any day,” at this Crowley twisted Valac’s hair and the demon let out a hiss. The pitch of Crowley’s voice dropped, “But my favorite sin is _ greed _ . What I have I keep for myself and this angel is _ mine _ and I will tear your throat out if you try to touch him again. Do you understand?”

Valac smiled, face still pressed against the table. “That’s more like it. We were all worried you had gone _ soft, _” he chuckled. 

Crowley abruptly let go and shoved away from him, still seething. Valac pushed himself off the table and heavily sat back down at the table, straightening his clothes. Still smug, he looked Crowley up and down, eyes lingering below his belt. “It seems you’re anything but soft.” 

Crowley didn’t let a flush make its way to his cheeks. He looked down and saw Aziraphale watching him, eyes shining with admiration, lips parted ever so slightly. The ropes around his wings seemed less foreign now, more inviting, begging to be tugged and pulled. Of course he was hard. Had been since he saw the collar what felt like days ago. The angel laid his head back down against his thigh without prompt. 

“With all that being said, I suppose you _ are _ right. It won’t do to let him get away with disobedience.” He watched for Aziraphale’s reaction. Looking for any sign of distress or worry, but found none. He had seen that Crowley would protect him. Crowley had proven it. Would prove it again and again until it was the only truth in creation. _ He’s mine. Mine. Mine. “ _ After all,” he continued, “you are our gracious host and who am I to deny you a show?” 

Not letting himself think twice about it, he stood up and wrapped a hand around Aziraphale’s ropes. He pulled him to his feet and the angel stumbled, not having his arms for balance as he was dragged to his feet only to immediately be pushed face first onto the table. 

Crowley secretly delighted in the gasp he heard as Aziraphale was laid out on the table in front of him. He looked up at Valac. “Do you think five would be fair?” 

“Don’t go easy on him on my account.” Valac scratched his chin in thought for a moment. Lips pursed as if he was picking out which wine to pair with a meal. “I’d say ten at least.”

Crowley reached under Aziraphale and unfastened his pants before quickly pulling them over the curve of his ass. There was no build up or warning. Just a sudden smack on his right cheek. The angel grunted and bit his lip to keep from crying out. 

“I’ve told you time and time again,” Crowley growled in his ear, “if you don’t listen to me there will be _ consequences _ .” Another smack, this time on his other cheek. “It’s so hard for you to keep quiet, isn’t it?” _ Thwack. _ “Well let’s hear it then. Let everyone know how much you like this.” His hand came down, harder than before and a moan tore its way out of Aziraphale’s throat. He tried to tuck his head into his shoulder to hide but Crowley took the rope attached to the collar and drew it up, making him arch his back as he keened. 

Not letting go of the rope, Crowley laid another five smacks in quick succession and Aziraphale’s cries became louder and louder with each one. His backside stung like a sunburn and he tried to subtly press his hips against the table. His face flushed, embarrassed that he was hard. 

There was no hiding it, though. The sounds coming out of his mouth were of pleasure, not pain. Crowley readjusted his grip around the length of rope down Aziraphale’s back before pulling him to his hips, grinding against the raw cheeks of Aziraphale’s ass. Letting himself take a moment of pleasure in the friction against his own arousal. He leaned over, body blanketing over him until his mouth was next to Aziraphale’s ear. “Are you getting off on this? Do you like me bending you over and spanking you?” Another tug on the ropes. He yanked Aziraphale’s head back, and licked a stripe along the edge of the collar, slipping his tongue under the gold band. Tasting metal and sweat. 

He suddenly pushed away and brought his hand down one final time. “_ Yes!” _Aziraphale cried in both answer and bliss. Crowley dropped the rope and Aziraphale fell to the table. He rubbed a soothing palm over the redding skin, delighting in the way it made Aziraphale twitch. He hissed as Crowley drew his pants back up over his sensitive flesh. 

“Are you going to behave better now?” He knew the answer but needed to hear it. 

Aziraphale drew in a few stuttering gasps. “Yes,” he choked out.

Crowley sat back down in the booth, making sure Aziraphale was looking at him, and he nodded his head at the cushion. “On your knees.”

Aziraphale struggled to get up without the use of his arms but made his way back to the cushion and got down, one knee at a time. He began to pitch over but Crowley was quick to reach out around the harness and hold him in place.

He eased back into position, careful not to fidget or make a sound. 

“Doesn’t he make such a pretty picture! Although I dare say you seem awfully uncomfortable in those pants now Crowley. I hope you don’t feel shy.” Valac certainly wasn’t, palming himself over his pants. He was polite enough to keep it at that but he didn’t stop himself from moaning with pleasure.

They had done enough, could stand up and leave right now. There was no need to go any further. Damn Valac and damn the consequences. Come Hell or holy water Crowley would defend Aziraphale with his life. Do whatever it took to keep him safe.

But, looking down at Aziraphale, all tied up and put on display, Crowley realized that some deep dark part of his mind wanted this. Wanted to snarl or strike at anyone who dared to come near him. To show the world that only he was able to have the angel in this way. They were secluded here, away from most of the other patrons. Although there were a few wandering eyes, human and demon alike that seemed to sneak a glance into their dark corner. 

He felt their eyes on him but the only ones he paid attention to were the ones looking up at him from between his legs. There was no fear or shame in those eyes, the eyes of his angel. He would do this for him. Wanted it as much as he did.

“You said you wanted a show.”

With a deft hand he undid the zipper of his pants and pulled himself out. He couldn’t show hesitation or embarrassment, didn’t want to give Valac the satisfaction, but in this moment Crowley wasn’t hesitant or embarrassed. He was confident and sure of his actions. Each moment he wanted this more and more and he felt the tension rise. The lust that had been building seized and took control. 

He brought his hand up to thread his fingers through Aziraphale’s hair. Gave one gentle caress through the cotton white curls before his grip tightened and he pushed himself into Aziraphale’s waiting mouth. Pleasure sparked up his spine and he gritted his teeth to hold back a groan, letting himself take one shallow thrust, finding no resistance in the wet heat he found. 

“So good,” he murmured as he started rolling his hips in earnest, wanting to see how much Aziraphale could take. Knowing it would be anything he had to give him. “Want to show them you’re mine. That this is mine. That I’m the only one who gets to have you like this.”

At the sound of those words, Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered shut and he let Crowely push deeper and deeper into his throat. Jaw held as wide as he could make it, eager to please. Crowley thrust again. With both his hands, he held Aziraphale in place and fucked his mouth, feeling the clench of muscles as Aziraphale tried to accommodate him, swallowing and gagging, saliva drooling down his chin. Making a mess. Making such a pretty picture. 

Crowley took his pleasure with greed. Selfishly and without remorse. It was his nature as a demon to live in sin. To give in to temptation. Lust was in control here and left no room for other thoughts in his mind. Just wet lips and heat and ecstasy. He marveled in Aziraphale’s short gasps for breath in between thrusts. Sharp and desperate. Like someone lost at sea, drowning in the churning waters of a storm. With each thrust, another wave crashed over him. Always able to come up for just enough air to keep him afloat before being brought down again. 

“So good for me. Gonna come. Gonna come and I want you to take it all. Want to be the only thing you taste.” With a thumb he wiped away some of the spit on Aziraphale’s chin, rubbing it into the skin there. His other hand tightened in his hair and began to push and pull Aziraphale’s head in time with his thrusts, his hips beginning to stutter. Gritting his teeth, he squeezed his eyes shut as the tension in his groin became too much and he tried to slow down, wanting this to last longer. 

After a few moments, he opened his eyes and he was met by the blazing gaze of his angel, staring up at him with lust and adoration, cheeks flushed and spit slick lips wrapped around his cock. An absolute mess, yet still the most beautiful thing Crowley had ever seen. His pleasure didn’t build so much as spike suddenly and the only warning he gave was a tug on Aziraphale’s hair before Crowley came, pouring his release down Aziraphale’s throat. 

He held his head in place as he rode out the aftershocks, grunting with each pulse of his cock as he slowly came down. He hissed at the added pressure as Aziraphale throat worked around him. Doing as he was told. Swallowing, savoring every last drop that Crowley gave him. 

The grip in the angel’s hair slowly turned to soft petting. Gentle where he had just been so rough. Aziraphale hips twitched, desperate for friction. For anything that might give him his own relief. 

He pulled his cock from Aziraphale’s mouth and tucked it back into his pants. 

“You did good for me.” He grabbed his chin, wiping away an errant drop of come that was caught on the corner of his mouth. His breath caught as Aziraphale dazedly tried to suck on Crowley’s thumb, still willing to take more. 

He chanced a glance up to Valac, wanting to see his reaction. The display was obviously to his satisfaction gauging by the way he had a hand between his thighs, palming himself over his pants, a smirk plastered on his face. 

Greed flared in the pit of Crowley’s soul. This had been enough to prove Aziraphale was his. That the angel bound and on his knees was a hellish victory. But Crowley wanted more. Wanted to show Valac what he was missing. Wanted to make sure he understood the prize that Aziraphale was. Pride. Or could it be Lust? Not satisfied with his own release and needing the taste of divine ecstasy before its hunger would be quelled. Each sin rolled together in his mind and melted into an ore, heavy and hot at the base of his stomach. 

Without saying a word to Valac, Crowley returned his attention to Aziraphale, who was taking deep deliberate breaths now that Crowley had had his way with him, that the storm had passed. 

“Oh, my angel. Want to show you that good behavior earns rewards.” Grabbing the harness, Crowley hauled him up and manhandled him until he had a lap full of angel. 

Aziraphale groaned as his ass was brought down on Crowley’s thighs, still sore from earlier. He tried to sit up, but immediately Crowley grabbed his hips and yanked him back down, drawing another broken sound from Aziraphale. 

“Shhh,” he hushed. “I know it hurts but I’m going to make it good. Make it all better. I promise. Want to reward you for taking my cock so well.” He placed a kiss on the collar and locked eyes with Valac. Still slowly palming himself. Still enjoying the show. 

But this wasn’t a show anymore. This was for them. Crowley needed to make Aziraphale feel good. Wanted to take care of him.

Carefully, Crowley unfastened Aziraphale’s pants and pulled out his cock. Already hard and leaking. His angel had been so patient. Been so good. “You don’t have to be quiet anymore. Want to hear you. Need to hear you.” He finished the sentence with a slow stroke that had Aziraphale crying out. 

His angel had been waiting for so long and now Crowley could give him everything. Would overwhelm him with pleasure that he had rightfully earned. With another rough stroke, Aziraphale’s body convulsed in his arms. His wings flexed on their own accord but were stopped by the ropes, pulling everything tight and yanking his head back. It off-balanced him and he began to fall backwards but instead was enveloped in a pair of black wings. Crowley encircled him entirely and held him tighter than the ropes. An embrace. A shield from any prying eyes. 

He stroked again, this time more firm, and he set up a ruthless pace. Jacking him off with short quick strokes. He didn’t want to tease, didn’t want to draw this out. 

Aziraphale buried his head in the crook of Crowley’s shoulder, gasping for breath as his hips tried to keep up. He was so close. Crowley knew it by the tension in his shoulders, by the pitch of his breath. He could feel Aziraphale’s lust, feel it as if it was his own pleasure. 

“I’m the only one who gets to have you like this. No one else. Everyone here _ wishes _ they were me, angel. Wishes they could feel you in their hands like I can. But they can’t. _ I won’t let them. _ Because your _ mine!” _He punctuated his word with a twist of his hand on the upstroke, squeezing the head of Aziraphale’s cock and thumbing over the collection of precum that he had wrung out of him. 

Aziraphale shook in his lap. Stomach muscles clenched and he bit back a whine. 

“Don’t hold back for me angel. Come for me. Only me_ .” _

His shaking became a full tremor. With one final twist of Crowley’s wrist, a loud piercing cry rose above any other sound as Aziraphale came. He was undone and helpless and Crowley devoured the feeling. Held him with his wings as the angel pulsed in his hand, coating Crowley’s fingers with come. All the tension left Aziraphale’s body and he slumped down, head falling on to Crowley’s shoulder as his body thrummed with the last tendrils of ecstasy. 

Succubus or not, Crowley consumed the pleasure like it was his last meal on earth. Fed off of it until the wild dark part of his soul calmed down enough for him to pull his thoughts together, finally satiated enough to see reason again. 

Mind clear, Crowley drew from his surged powers and time slowed and then stopped altogether. Everyone looking their way miraculously blinked at the same time, eyes all shut in this frozen instance. A stolen moment for the two of them made longer, small enough that no one would notice. 

Still gasping for breath, Aziraphale didn’t seem to register what had happened. He began to mimic Crowley’s deep deliberate breaths and then looked around them, eyes still a little glazed, confused as to why the world around them had stopped. Realizing that they were alone, he put his head back into the crook of Crowley’s neck and took a deep shuddering breath. Finally having the privacy to relax. 

Crowley pressed a kiss to the angel’s temple. Pulled on the strands of love woven between them. _ Are you alright? _ he silently asked. 

By answer Aziraphale gave his own kiss to Crowley’s shoulder. _ Yes, my dear. I’m alright. I love you. _

They said no words. Just stayed in this instance. Bodies tuned to one another.

Crowley took a deep breath and on the exhale the world started again. Crowley’s adrenaline flooded back into him as they were brought back to reality. His greed returned full force, remembering where they were. Who they were with. 

At the thought, Crowley looked up over Aziraphale’s head, between the arches of his wings, to see Valac still palming himself. More deliberately than before. Even with his sunglasses still on, the look of warning on Crowley’s face stopped his movements. Valac could take care of his own _ problem _ once they were gone but not a moment sooner. This was all part of Crowley’s greed. Wouldn’t even let anyone else get off. 

Crowley pulled his hand up to his mouth and licked a stripe through the mess still on his fingers, not looking away from Valac, who shifted in his seat. Envious. 

“Do you want to know how he tastes, Valac? Do you want to know how it feels to hold an angel in your hands as he comes undone?” He licked his palm, humming as he savored the salty taste. “Because I can tell you. I can go into every detail of it but you’ll never _ know _ . Never experience it for yourself.” Another swipe of his tongue. “It’s _ divine.” _ He smirked as he brought his fingers into his mouth, cleaning up the rest. Not letting a drop escape his attention. 

For a moment, Valac seemed at a loss for words, obviously not expecting this level of performance from Crowley. _ Serves him right for underestimating me, _ Crowley thought viciously.

Trying to reclaim the moment, Valac shook himself and clasped his hands together. “Well done.” He gave a couple half-hearted claps and his suave demeanor returned in degrees. “Really, more than I was expecting. Not that I’m _ complaining, _ mind you. But unfortunately, I have urgent matters to get to elsewhere.” He stood up, not even in the realm of ashamed of his obvious arousal. “Come back _ anytime _.” 

With swift fingers, Crowley tucked Aziraphale back into his pants and stood them up, needing to lift Aziraphale’s mostly limp body. They were done here. He was taking his angel home. 

Crowley bared his teeth to Valac in a snarl disguised as a smile, hackles raised. “We’ll see ourselves out.” Without waiting for a response or caring if he was being rude, Crowley snapped his fingers and they were gone. 

* * *

Home. They were home. 

Even with his head still buried in Crowley’s shoulder, Aziraphale could tell. The way the air shifted around them and became more familiar, the scent of books and tea, the scent of _ them. _ The silence in the room was disorienting compared to the sounds that had filled the club. It sounded empty now. Quite. Private. They were back in Soho and in the bedroom that they shared. That no one else was allowed in. They were alone and the realization shattered something in Aziraphale. 

There had been so many eyes on him. So many sounds. Even now he couldn’t process it all. 

“Aziraphale?” One voice. Just one. That’s all there was now. Just Crowley. Still holding him, wings wrapped tightly around him. 

The taste of salt reached his lips and Aziraphale realized he was crying, tears streaming down his face as his body shook from the effort to hold himself together. It was all too much. 

“Shh, it’s alright now. I’ve got you. Not gonna let anything happen.” Crowley’s voice was soft. Something to focus on. He stroked his hair and they just stood there. Letting time pass around them. Having nothing to hide anymore. 

The world seemed to settle and Aziraphale’s tears slowed. He felt raw, almost hollow. Done with crying because he had nothing left in him. Crowley continued to murmur words in his ear and Aziraphale felt himself flooded with love. A balm on his nerves. 

“Alright, angel?”

“Yes. I’m alright. It just hit me all at once, I suppose. Terribly sorry about that.” He sniffed and rubbed his cheek against Crowley’s shoulder, trying in vain to wipe away his tears without the use of his hands. 

Crowley’s wings opened and Aziraphale shivered as the rush of air chilled the sweat along his body. The demon pulled away from him, wings retreating to the ethereal plane, and grabbed him by the shoulders. 

“You don’t need to apologize. That was a lot to handle and you did so well.” Aziraphale tried to hide his face at the words but Crowley wouldn’t let him, grabbing his chin to turn his face back. “I love you. And what you did for me tonight was more than anything I deserve.” He brought their lips together and Aziraphale kissed back almost shyly. He had missed this. Missed the feeling of Crowley’s lips on his. He pressed in harder, turning the kiss into something more heated. More urgent. They hadn’t been allowed this. Weren’t allowed to express any of the love they felt for each other, knowing Hell would see it as a weakness. A reason to suspect them. To take them apart from one another. 

Despite the ache to his body and the exhaustion he felt, Aziraphale wanted Crowley. He wanted to touch Crowley, feel him under his hands, needed to take back what was theirs. 

He squirmed in his ropes, for the first time actually fighting to get out. The pull was constricting now, not comforting. A cage that kept him from what he wanted. The collar tugged backwards, pulling his mouth from Crowley, baring his neck. 

Crowley took it as the offering it was and began kissing along the column of his neck. Around and over the collar. Licking up the sweat that ran along his skin. 

It wasn’t fair. The ropes had no give, didn’t loosen no matter how hard he pulled. If he could just get one hand free-

“Crowley, _ please _.” Need flooded his system and made him blind. 

Crowley’s breath had picked up speed. “Love the sound of you begging,” he said into his skin, not moving his mouth away. Pressing kiss after searing kiss into whatever he could reach. 

By way of answer, Aziraphale let out a desperate moan. 

“That’ssss it,” Crowley hissed, mouthing up to his ear. “Tell me what you want.”

“_You. _ I want you. Please, Crowley.”

There was a snap and the ropes holding Aziraphale fell away. He cried out as his wings fell open of their own accord. Muscles tight from being confined for so long. He couldn’t hold himself up, the wings felt heavier than they had before, but Crowley wrapped his arms around his waist and kept him upright. 

Arms finally free, Aziraphale brought them to Crowley’s face and pulled him into a kiss. Holding- _ finally _ holding the one that he loved so much. His hands moved sliding to his neck, down his chest, around his waist, up his back, carding through the soft feathers he found there. Not lingering for long. Wanting to touch every inch of the demon under his hands. 

They pulled away, Aziraphale’s lungs burning, not used to needing so much oxygen. “Need to catch your breath, angel?” Crowley teased, obviously pretending that he wasn’t as affected. Aziraphale huffed but didn’t say anything on the subject. Crowley’s hand slid toward the collar, “Do you want me to-” but with an unexpected swiftness Aziraphale grabbed his wrist before he could finish the sentence. The movement startled Crowley and he looked at Aziraphale, brows furrowed in confusion. 

Aziraphale himself was startled at the action, but he quickly gathered his thoughts. “No. Not yet,” he said, still panting. The right words wouldn’t come to his mouth. Couldn’t explain how he still needed this, needed the proof that he was Crowley’s. His nerves still so raw from the night. Overwhelmed. Didn’t want to lose this. To become unbound to Crowley. He flushed at the thought and dropped Crowley’s wrist like it burned, suddenly embarrassed at his behavior. 

Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s hand before it fell to his side and brought it to his lips. Kissing his knuckles before bringing it up against his cheek, pushing into Aziraphale’s palm. With his other hand, he pulled off his sunglasses and tossed them onto the nearby desk. He looked into Aziraphale’s eyes and placed a kiss to his palm. 

“You can keep it on as long as you like. I’m not going anywhere.” 

Aziraphale could feel Crowley’s love. Didn’t need a connection to his angelic powers for this. Felt it like a breeze off the sea or the sun on a clear day. It was all consuming and filled Aziraphale. Illuminated all the shadows he had. He crashed their lips together, feverish with passion. Aziraphale licked into his mouth and groaned as Crowley pulled their hips together. Pressing their bodies together until there was nothing separating them. 

“Please dear, I’ve been so patient. So good. Need you.” 

“_Yes. _ Anything you want.” He was already unfastening Aziraphale’s pants. Pushing them down with his briefs until they pooled on the floor. His hands roamed across the new expanse of exposed skin, burning Aziraphale in the best kind of way. 

Aziraphale stepped out of the pants and kicked off his shoes; he bent and clumsily took off his socks before kissing Crowley again, biting at his lower lip. Mindful of the pile of clothes on the ground, he pulled them towards the bed, walking backwards until his knees hit the mattress. Breaking away from the kiss, he sat down and pulled himself to the middle of the bed, laying down with his wings spread. A renaissance painting for Crowley’s eyes only. 

Crowley stood there and drank in the sight of Aziraphale wearing nothing but the collar. He seemed transfixed, eyes lingering at Aziraphale’s neck, as if he had never seen something so wondrous. 

Aziraphale brought a hand up to the collar and felt the metal under his finger. It was warm. Warmer than his already flushed skin. Thrumming with the power of containing his angelic power. Script saying that he was owned. That he belonged to Crowley. “It’s not enough,” he said to the demon whose name was written around his neck. “Need to feel you inside me. Need you to claim me from the inside out.”

Crowley desperately nodded his head, and started frantically taking off his clothes, as if forgetting he could remove them with a thought. The buttons proved to be particularly difficult, his fingers moving too fast to be dexterous. 

Aziraphale waited restlessly, squirming and grasping the bedsheets in his hands. He whined, and the sound only served to make Crowley more desperate, tripping on his pants as he finally got them around his ankles. Finally- _ finally _ Crowley was naked and he wasted no time before snaking up Aziraphale, trailing hot kisses on his way until meeting Aziraphale’s panting mouth. 

Aziraphale jerked impatiently under Crowley, wanting any form of friction he could get. Crowley shifted and then there was a slick finger circling Aziraphale’s entrance. He groaned. Tired of teasing. 

“Have I ever told you how delicious your lust is? How good it tastes to get you on edge?” Crowley purred in his ear, still not pushing inside. “Want to keep you here forever. Just shaking with need.”

Aziraphale bucked his hips, trying to get away from the teasing sensation while still wanting more of it. 

Crowley chuckled. “What happened to my patient little angel?”  
  


“_Screw _ being patient. Crowley so help me-” He choked on his words, finally getting what he wanted as a finger worked its way inside him. He threw his head back and gasped. Writhed as Crowley slowly worked him open. Taking his time. 

“So _ bossy _.” 

He worked a second finger in and after only a few moments Aziraphale started pulling on his shoulder. “Now. Please. I’m ready.”

Crowley hummed contemplatively, “Are you _ ssssure _ ?” He crooked his finger and Aziraphale saw stars.

“_Yesss!” _ Aziraphale hissed fiercely, done with manners, done with ‘pleases.’ “Yes, I’m sure you- you _ fiend! _”

Crowley snorted out a short laugh before pushing himself onto his knees. Still too slowly, he removed his fingers and used his hand to align himself with Aziraphale. Leisurely, he slid his length against the soft curve of ass, not using enough pressure to sink into him, only catch his rim with every other pass. But Aziraphale was done waiting. He needed Crowley inside him. Would be damned if he had to wait any longer. He wrapped his legs around Crowley’s waist and rolled them over, using his wings for leverage. 

Crowley let out an undignified squawk at the shift, back hitting the mattress. Aziraphale smirked as he adjusted above him, securing both his knees on either side of Crowley’s hips. Crowley tried to sit up but Aziraphale immediately put a stop to it by pushing him back to the bed with his hand. 

With his other hand he lined them up and with a deep breath he sank all the way down in one rough movement. They both gasped at the sensation. He was still so tight. The stretch almost too much. Almost on the verge of painful. But Aziraphale loved it, loved the burn and the pull he felt in his core, savored every inch of Crowley inside him. 

Beneath him, Crowley gritted his teeth, trying not to blindly thrust up. Giving the angel a moment to adjust. His hands wrapped around Aziraphale’s hips and squeezed. 

Aziraphale shifted and groaned, wings spread out behind him. “Feels so good.”

“Yes. So good. Aziraphale, please.” Crowley started babbling as Aziraphale slowly rolled his hips, using Crowley for balance. 

“It’s not as fun when you’re the one getting teased is it, love?”

Crowley grunted and pushed his hips up into Aziraphale, earning a sigh of pleasure from the angel. “I’d still call this plenty fun.” 

Aziraphale hummed in agreement, eyes closed and head tilted back. He picked up the pace of his movements, fucking himself on Crowley’s cock. There was a peace in not having his powers in this moment. Needing to focus on things he wouldn’t normally. His breath. The sweat running down his back. It all felt sharper. The collar was still tight around his neck, a mark of ownership from Crowley. But it wasn’t enough, he needed something deeper. Something to hold inside himself. 

“Crowley. My darling-” He couldn’t finish the thought. _ Make me yours over and over again. Let every atom in my body thrum with you. Prove to me what can’t be said with words. Prove what I already know to be fact, that I am yours and you are mine. _In all his years of reading, books upon books upon books, he could recite works from the greatest authors of all and still not find the right ones for this moment. 

But they didn’t need words. There was a string that tied them together. They were the inkwell to the others quill. Every hitch of breath a sentence, every touch of skin a volume in series that predates the written word. As if feeling the lust burn inside him, Crowley sat up, thrusting up inside him. Aziraphale’s moan was interrupted as Crowley brought their mouths together in a fierce kiss that had no finesse, just a transfer of passion from one soul into the next. The position change almost toppled Aziraphale over but Crowley gripped his hips and pulled, driving them together. Aziraphale cried out, scrambling his hands around Crowley’s shoulders, using him for leverage to throw himself down to meet him.

In between gasps of breath, Crowley peppered kisses along Aziraphale’s neck. “Mine.” He whispered harshly against the collar. “Mine.” It became a chant that brought Aziraphale closer to the edge. 

“Yes. Yours. Yours. Oh, my love. Come inside me. Please.”

Crowley wrapped his hands around Aziraphale’s hips and pulled him down forcefully sending a wave of lighting up his body. He did it again, harder this time, almost like a wild animal, lost to primal urges. Aziraphale dug his fingers into Crowley’s back, trying to find some purchase, matching each of his thrusts. His breath was coming in short gasps now. He was so close.

Crowley pulled his hips down and held him there, letting out a broken cry as he came, flooding Aziraphale with his release. Aziraphale felt the heat of it bloom inside him, marking him, claiming him in the way that he had been craving. He threw his head back and let the feeling overtake him, following Crowley into ecstasy. 

They fell back to themselves slowly and by degrees. Aziraphale winced as he shifted up until Crowley slipped from him, flushing at the mess down there. 

Without much grace, Crowley fell backwards into the mattress, pulling Aziraphale with him.

They stayed there, breathing in the scent of one another until the sweat on their bodies began to cool. With a lazy snap, Crowley miracled them more or less clean, although Aziraphale delightedly noted that he still felt Crowley’s come between his thighs, loving the absolutely debauched feeling it gave him. 

He relaxed and let himself snuggle into Crowley. Satiated and sore. His eyes drooped shut and he shook himself, trying to stay awake.

Sleep had never come naturally to Aziraphale. His mind would always focus on what else he could be doing. Books to read, pastries to try. Crowley had encouraged him to make an effort, but the only time he ever felt it was worth it was when he was with Crowley and even then he would lie awake, cataloging every detail on the demon’s face, until drifting into a light sleep. 

Now though, he felt drowsy. His body spent, exhausted. He felt a blanket settle around his shoulders with a soft sigh and he let himself sink further into the hazy feeling around him.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley’s voice broke through the fog in his mind but not enough to fully rouse him. All the angel could manage was a hum in response as he slowly blinked up at Crowley, the effort to keep his eyes open a fight he was on the losing side of.

Crowley brought his hand up and ran his thumb over the collar. “It goes both ways you know.” The voice was quiet but clear, a low hum that worked as a lullaby. “I’m yours as much as you are mine.” 

Aziraphale smiled against his chest. “I know, my dear.” He placed a kiss on Crowley’s sternum and finally let himself be pulled under to sleep, cradled in the arms of his demon.


End file.
